


The Apple Doesn't Fall Far

by Nehszriah



Series: The Teacher, the Media Man, and the President of the United States [11]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Clara still has her working-mom status thank goodness, F/M, Gen, Malcolm is a great father and a terrible father at the same time, Prompt Fic, bringing a kid to work because you feel like it, contains a small child swearing with terms he doesn't understand, father-son time, though being a Tucker one never knows for certain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-06 03:08:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5400788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nehszriah/pseuds/Nehszriah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clara is on a work trip, so Malcolm's in charge of their four-year-old son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Apple Doesn't Fall Far

Malcolm sat in his home office, tapping out a rather violent late-night email to a campaign staffer who recently fucked up bad. The little cunt had gone and fucked an opposing party staffer _in a cupboard_. Fucking a man rough would have been alright had it been in one of their homes or in some by-the-hour motel, but getting caught with your trousers down and dick hilt-deep in another bloke’s arse in a government building was entirely another.

“Daddy…?” a tiny voice mumbled from the doorway. Malcolm glanced over the computer monitor and found his four-year-old son standing halfway in the hall. Daniel was rubbing his eyes, sniffling softly.

“What’s the matter, sport?” Malcolm asked, taking off the glasses that were perched on his nose. The little boy walked in, dragging his toy lion in after him, and climbed up into his father’s lap, cuddling into him despite work continuing on the email.

“I had a bad dream,” he admitted.

“Oh yeah? What happened? Can you tell me?”

“Mommy didn’t come back from her book-thing.” He hugged his lion tighter, a frown on his face. “I like Daddy Time, but I want Mommy to come back too.”

“Ach, I know how you feel son,” Malcolm said. He hit send on the email and pivoted the chair so he no longer faced the screen, holding the boy with both hands. “Mam’s on a very important trip though, and I think that when she comes home to find us doing fine, it’ll make her feel better about going on these trips.”

“Why does she need to go away?” Daniel wondered.

“To promote her book, so that people will buy it.”

“How come?”

“Some people like to buy a book to get it signed by the author, and so that they can talk to them, because they’re a nutter like that,” Malcolm explained. He stroked his son’s hair and held him close. “Before you know it, Mam will be back home and everything will be normal again.”

“…but that’s not until _Monday_ , and it’s _Wednesday_ ,” Daniel protested.

Malcolm pondered on that, trying to come up with a solution to the problem at hand. “Hey, since you don’t have school tomorrow, how about if I bring you into work instead of working from here?”

“Really…?” The child’s eyes went wide in wonder.

“Of course—you’d have to bring some things to keep you busy when you can’t help me, but I think it’s possible,” Malcolm grinned. “How about it? I don’t think you’ve come into work with me yet.”

“I can see Aunt Courtney!” Daniel giggled excitedly.

“Then how about we get you off to bed; it’s a big day tomorrow!”

“Okay!”

Malcolm put his son down on the floor and followed him over to his room. Once Daniel was settled down underneath his bedspread and cuddling his lion, Malcolm ruffled his hair and gave him a kiss on the forehead before shutting off the light. Toulouse scurried in and hopped up into the bed, settling down against Daniel’s legs for warmth.

* * *

‘… _and is Daniel behaving?_ ’ Clara wondered, her voice being piped into her husband’s ear via a Blutooth earpiece. Malcolm continued flipping pancakes, trying to concentrate both on the conversation and the food at the same time.

“Oh, he’s been doing well,” he said. “How’s the weather over there? Minneapolis in January? I still think your agent is fucking mental.”

‘ _Journey knows her stuff though, so I don’t complain_.’

“Yeah, yeah, I know—she’s a firecracker.” He then turned towards Daniel, looking at the boy’s empty plate. “Another Daddy-brand fuckcake?”

“Yes!” Daniel replied, holding his arms up triumphantly, utensils still in-hand. Malcolm brought the pan over to the table and slid the food off. “Here we are; eat up.”

“A Mickey Mouse fuckcake! Cool!” Daniel gasped before reaching for the syrup.

‘ _I really wish you wouldn’t teach our son such language_ ,’ Clara said, audibly frowning.

“Daniel, what do we do when it comes to Daddy Words?”

“It stays the fuck home!” the child cheered through a mouthful of pancake.

“See Clara? We’re fine,” Malcolm scoffed jokingly. “He’s clever enough—no way any kid you pop out would be anything less.”

‘ _Well, if I get a complaint from the preschool teacher one more time, you’re the one going to apologize, not me_ ,’ she said.

“It’s a promise,” he grinned. “Hey, got to go; need to get a jump on things—that rough shag is proving more trouble than first thought.”

‘ _Alright then—miss me_.’

“Every moment.” Malcolm ended the call and sat down at the table, taking the earpiece out. “So, what’d you and Mam talk about?”

“She asked how school is, and if Toulouse has been a good kitty.”

“…and…?”

“School is good and Toulouse is Toulouse-y.”

“Good boy,” Malcolm chuckled. He began to cut up his own pancakes, shoving them in his mouth. “Now hurry up, or we can’t go to the office today until after lunch.”

“Gotcha, Daddy!” Daniel quickly ate the remainder of his food and ran away, bolting up the stairs to prepare for the day out. His father finished his own breakfast and put their plates in the dishwasher, as well as put some food in Toulouse’s bowl for the day ahead. Malcolm then went upstairs and finished dressing, putting on a checked shirt and a jumper.

“Daniel? You ready?” he called out as he tied his shoes.

“Almost!”

“Well, be ready in two minutes, yeah?”

“Yeah!”

Ten minutes later and Malcolm was clicking the safety belt on Daniel’s car seat in place and they were off. An hour later, most of it road-rage-related traffic jams, and Malcolm was carrying his son in one arm and his laptop bag in the other on his way into work.

“What the… you kidnap a kid, Tucker?” the security guard at the front desk laughed.

“Nah; wife’s gone on a book signing and this wee rascal only has school thrice a week,” Malcolm replied. He turned to his boy and whispered in his ear. “Now what do we do to limp-dicked twats?”

Daniel went and hugged his stuffed lion tight with one hand, giving the security guard the two-fingered salute with the other. Cackling, Malcolm let the boy walk the rest of the way to his office, holding his hand as Daniel bounced along.

Malcolm knew his office wasn’t great—just a room with a desk and some bookshelves, a couch and a filing cabinet that had a drawer full of sweets—but Daniel acted as if it was the most amazing place he’d ever seen.

“Wow… this is _cool_ , Daddy!” Daniel exclaimed. He zoomed around the room and came to a crash on the couch. Giddy, he began to set himself up with his tablet, headphones, and some coloring books with crayons, all from his backpack. He laid down on his tummy and before long he was coloring away while he listened to some cartoons.

“If only you knew,” Malcolm smirked to himself. He then got to work, conjuring excuses and cussing out coworkers. He even had some pizza delivered to his office so that he and Daniel could eat together without going too far from the office door and wandering eyes. They were nearly done when Courtney walked into the room, taking in the sight happily.

“I heard there was pizza; did you save a slice for me?” she asked.

“No! It’s my snack later!” Daniel claimed. He closed the box and shoved it in the small fridge that was sitting in the corner before retrieving one of the juice boxes he’d brought along from home.

“Well that’s _rude_ ,” Courtney scowled, trying to keep her face straight as Daniel giggled at her. “I should put you to work for a comment like that.”

“You can’t make me, Aunt Courtney! I’m _four_!”

“Oh yeah? You’re in my building, so that must mean you work for me,” she replied.

“Ugh… _fine_ ,” the boy groaned dramatically. He slid off the couch and dragged himself to the opened doorway, watching for someone to walk by.

“I should tell Clara on you,” Courtney said, shaking her head in disbelief. “This is no place for Daniel—not now.”

“Oh, I think he can hold his own,” Malcolm replied. He pointed towards his boy with a pen and waited, his brows arched in anticipation.

“Fuck off!” Daniel shouted sternly at a passerby. He didn’t know how incredibly _not_ intimidating he was sipping a juice box and holding his lion, but that only added to the unnerving factor. “Get out of here, you wank! Why didn’t you end up in your daddy’s tube sock?” He then shuffled back towards the couch and placed his juice box down before curling up, using Malcolm’s jacket as a blanket. “All that hard work made me sleepy.”

“Yeah, go to sleep now,” Courtney said, stifling her laughter. She then turned to Malcolm, grins across both their faces. “Father of the Year, you’re not.”

“Father of the Fucking Century, more like,” he fired back. “There’s no one like my Daniel—absolutely no one.”

“Thank God for that.”


End file.
